The Damp Tremor

it's a young world
I live on the edge of

drain that old bladder--
half a flagon is too much
to turn yet a new leaf
before it falls to the sere

a habit of place etches
into settling addiction
to feed the trade of goods
beyond want waste & rot

to keep the waves of fear
& smoldering doubt at bay
we build high walls
on higher ground

set a flat roof over the damp
tremor of our expectations